


A Harmless Untruth

by Asciidot



Series: Acatalepsy [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:07:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28936752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asciidot/pseuds/Asciidot
Summary: What wrong can a little hope do?
Relationships: Original Male Character(s)/Original Non-Binary Character(s)
Series: Acatalepsy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122284





	A Harmless Untruth

_“The siblings of [XXXX] were found 19xx, and our gracious king chose to warmly wel-“_

* * *

The screen went black as a remote went flying, and clattered on the floor. The grey carpet was worn, stained by many a thing, but remarkably well kept. The entire room was much the same. Folders, Filing cabinets, everything coded and stored away neatly, yet damaged, much like the man hugging his knees on the bed, his eyes tightly shut. There was a sharp intake of breath and his eyes opened, a greyish blue. They were almost pretty, if they didn’t accompany such a worn out face. He picked at his nails and grimaced when a spot of blood was drawn- he really had to stop that habit, as evident from how raggedy his fingertips were. They were bitten and scarred, and it looked almost as if he never had fingerprints. His hands themselves were seemingly dainty; they could have been a girls from how slender they were, however the palms were calloused. He pulled himself out of bed and grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

The pale man drew the hair out of his face, and glanced at the digital clock on the sideboard.

7:20.

He recoiled in abject horror at how he’d wasted his time to the point he was already late- watching a documentary on the royal family no less. He pursed his lips, glancing at the outdated phone beside the clock. Wait, wasn’t there an alarm at 6:30? It never went off. Or he could have missed it, he was aware he could be oblivious to his surroundings sometimes.

He picked up the cream-coloured phone, and dialled a number that was on a pink post-it-note on the wall.

“ _Hello? ORPHEUS Dev. Here. Whats your concern? For Ethical complaints press 1. For Legal complaints press 2. For more information about our project press 3. For employees press 4. Your call matters to us!_ ”

A rattly click was heard. Something to be said about the phone was it wasn’t like most of the other things in the room. It was dusty, but looked untouched. The buttons had the sort of print that would come off over time, but was almost pristine, never really touched. The only button that looked like it had any sort of history was the one to hang up. And judging by the note with the few numbers on it, he didn’t have much reason to use it either. If there was something to be said for sure from the room, it was that he was a lonely existence.

“ _You have selected 4. We will get you through to an operator as soon as one is available._ ”

_“ …”_

“ _Hello. My name is Abigail. Name, Status._ ”

“Mornin’. A.Birch, Panel head of the design and build.”

“ _Oh! Excuse my curt tone, sir. Reason for call?_ ”

“Taking the day off. Liam can stand in. He’s been itching for a go at my spot for a while so why not.”

“ _… reason for absence, sir? _”

“Sick, I guess. Don’t need to be paid for sick days. I’ll work overtime later.”

“ _Alright. I’ll relay your message. I admire your diligence and loyalty to our organisation. Get well soon_.”

A.Birch immediately hung up at her acknowledgement, and put the phone down shakily. The man wasn’t even sick, though his pale complexion could have people fooled. He stretched groggily and grabbed the plain black mug, throwing on a grey dressing gown. Most of the things he owned weren’t coloured, for some reason; the closest you got were cheap beiges, faded yellows, washed out blues. Then he went to the sink, and carefully scrubbed out yesterdays mug, before setting the kettle off. Pulling up a stool Birch slouched onto the sideboard, lazily watching it heat up and slowly produce steam until all at once it stopped with a click, the bubbling subsiding. He poured the spitting water into the mug, then pulled down a lemon and ginger herbal tea bag- off-brand. The little pouch was dropped into the water, and his attention wandered off after judging he couldn’t drink it now. He then opened the fridge, froze for a moment in thought, and shut it, deciding he wasn't feeling particularly hungry yet.

Birch picked the mug back up, cupping it in two hands, enjoying the warmth it gave off.

He placed it down on the living room coffee table, hard enough so a little spilled over the side. Birch didn’t give it a second glance.

Throwing himself onto the couch he found himself ruminating over the documentary, his fists clenched. He couldn’t help the envy, really. These four children who by some dumb unfair luck were made heirs for the throne, no less, after being rescued. What they were rescued from was never publicised, but everyone assumed either trafficking or some cult of sorts. Most press agreed on the fact the children were to be sold, though in any sort of interview their origins were always evaded, through excuses such as psychological damage or sensitive information. If it truly was psychological damage then all four would be unfit for the throne, and the King never had children of his own, which would cause chaos for the country. There wasn’t even any next of kin. Birch pinched his earlobes and steadied his thoughts, unsuccessfully trying to ignore the resentment building up. He laughed to himself, knowing he was probably the only person in Utopia who scorned the siblings purely because they were luckier than him. Its not like it even went to their head. They were perfect, and that’s what he despised most. They supposedly went through so much, got tangled into one of the most privileged positions to ever exist on some whim, and remained compassionate. They even held down individual civilian jobs, unlike any candidates that had come before them.

Birch shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

He felt so petty and just… a sorry state to behold, if anyone was to bear witness to his jealousy. Talk about waking up on the wrong side of the bed.

Birch stood up, bumping the table and spilling the tea. He watched it trickle pitifully to the ground, frozen, before a cold smile spread on his face. He didn’t feel like sorting that now.

The pale man stumbled back to his room and flicked on the light which cast a sickly sulphurous glow. He put on some casual clothing, just a turtleneck and a winter jacket, accompanied with slightly ripped jeggings and trainers. The jeggings were torn at the knees, not bought like that, and not deliberately crafted like that either. Birch crouched down and tied his laces with a blank expression, and stood back up slowly. The remote was still on the floor- ah.

“Bloody amazin’..” He retorted to himself, the batteries having come out from the force of hitting the floor…speaking of which, there was yet another small dent on the wall that needed to be re-plastered at this point. Throwing things was apparently a common occurrence. He scrambled about and put the remote back together, and just to check he flicked the small television on.

“ _-and P-4, what do you plan on doing?"_

“ _Well! I honestly don’t know! Im the sort of person who runs into things with no plan- I’m not a ruling type! In all honesty me, Amael, Rothy, we all kinda think Laz would do the best job. I just want to help this place be safe … a childish, no, a selfish goal, but i don’t want to have to ever see anyone unhappy, especially not due to circumstances that’s a result from another!"_

The person on the television looked warmly at the camera. They were fairly androgynous, and a well known face. The fourth sibling, Aurum. They had the most endearing attitude, and as a result the most support, but they didn’t dare assert their position. It was as if they were just as aware as birch that all their status they held was down to luck. No more, no less.

“ _So, what are-"_

Birch switched it off again. He was tired of hearing about them, and found it hard to believe that they were genuine. How could anyone publicly denounce themselves like that in earnest. Nobody was honest this day and age, and nobody could ever have intentions as pure as that. It was impossible.

He placed the remote back where it belonged, and paced to the front door, throwing on a scarf and a pair of white cotton gloves. The cotton gloves were actually one of the few things that looked in perfect condition, just like the phone, except unlike the untouched phone these were simply well maintained and regularly cleaned.

* * *

Birch opened the door and shivered in the icy breeze, taking a couple hesitant steps and locking the door behind him. The alley he stood in was quite dismal, the only tidy porch amongst the rented studios being his own. The rest was littered with trash and the occasional fly dump. The only thing that could be said was that the sun was glimmering away happily, though even that bore down like a dagger, complimenting the colds' own blade in such a way to leave ones body agitated. He huddled into himself for warmth, striding along at relative speed, periodically checking behind him out of some unknown fear that he was being followed, or watched at the very least. It was unlikely, but the thought was lodged into the back of his mind, and you could never be too careful.

After about five minutes of navigating alleyways he made it onto the highstreet, and relaxed a little. There were quite a few people but he could avoid them fairly well, and thus judged it as safe. He turned a left and stopped for a moment to look at the horizon.

It was utterly destroyed by buildings, but one skyscraper stood above the mass of grey, almost clone-like apartments and studio blocks. It was a dazzling sight, the skyscraper. It jutted out like a sharpened shard of glass, and reflected the sky. Some said on some days it acted like a prism, casting the city in rainbows. Birch had never personally seen it, but it was a rumour, and it definitely looked the part. That was where the Royals resided.

The Royals were a “family”, but not your conventional one. It was more of an alliance united under one name. Powerful people were invited into the “family” and it grew as a sort of syndicate, but ruled by an individual known as a king. The king had the right to choose a heir, though the public could overturn the choice if they so wished and had a viable candidate. It worked… fairly well. This king however, Hedron, had taken in “strays” and caused a public fuss, even more so when he announced he was likely to choose a heir from them. It wasn’t the change in bloodline that was the issue, it was the lack of familial backing or history which caused the uproar. But the candidates, fondly called the siblings or heirs, grew on the public.

A melody snapped him out of his daze, the upbeat yet soothing tune coming from a cafe. Birch sighed and rubbed his face, putting his conflicted and intangible emotions on a bad nights sleep before ambling over and entering the quaint little shop, a ding sounding on his entry. The shopkeep glanced up and let out a surprised exclamation;

_“Its you! You are absolutely never ever here around this time, such a punctual schedule- did something come up?”_

Birch shrugged, not bothering to dignify them with an answer, immediately seeking out and sitting at a table near the back. He laid down the menu from its standing position, and made himself comfortable. The cafe was warm, and quieter than usual. The music wasn’t half bad today either, for once. Birch let out a small relieved grin and hummed along, shutting his eyes. Even the smell was nice. And nobody really bothered you here-

_“Your usual!”_

He nodded at the person, and swiped a card he pulled from his pocket to pay. It was nice, he mused. He should probably take breaks more often, especially if this place was always so quiet during regular work-hours. Birch chuckled and pulled up a newspaper, reading it with a quiet content. Now and again he picked up his coffee and sipped it. He really needed to buy some at some point, but the market ones were never as good as the shop-brewed ones. It was worth waiting for in all honesty, and they even gave you a biscuit, though that was probably from him being a loyal customer. You could see the newspaper crumpling slightly under his tight grip, but it was better than having shaky hands in public.

* * *

Shadows began to dance around the buildings, the sun having reached its crest and now declining into night. Birch somehow hadn’t moved an inch, and was just completing a sudoku in silent thought. Everyone had left; it was just how he liked it.

_DING_

The door shut behind the newcomer. As usual the shopkeeper perked up but unlike their normal quick wordy quips, they were still for a few seconds in shock. The new person wandered to the counter and took a peek at the menu and drinks list with a large smile.

_“Its my first time here! Do you have any specialities? Mind you I don’t drink espresso- it's a little too bitter for me! I've got a bit of a sweet tooth you see, ehe~!”_

They were tall, somewhat broad, and undeniably had a completely positive look, from their voice to the way they held their body. Somewhat bashful? They seemed self conscious, but in a way that made them innocent, if that was possible. Like they didn’t want to cause a scene.They wore an orange Bandanna, the tips of their hair, an electric orange, their eyes, the same orange. An unmistakable attire. Birch couldn’t help but stare wide eyed. After all, it was Aurum P-4. The one on tv; The “kind” one.

Birch had a sinking feeling. This didn’t feel real.

_“Oh, Mocha? Why not!”_

He snapped back into the present, and looked at the newspaper, realising he had been staring. The cafe was empty with him being the only one in here, bar Aurum themselves.

Birch was terrified of drawing any sort of attention. He felt a shudder run over him when suddenly he recalled what Aurum was in public; an investigations officer. That wasnt-

He was panicking.

Not now.

In silent alarm he recurrently rubbed his wrists and took control of his breathing, brushing the hair out of his face- which reminded him he really should have put in a ponytail if he ever left the house for extended periods of time. Nevermind that now- He just needed to ignore them, which was easier said than done. If he left now it would be to coincidental- but thinking of Aurum, they were essentially a celebrity. Where on earth was everyone? He'd expected someone like that to have at least bodyguards. 

_"Hello! Are you quite alright?"_

Birch looked up. Well that was that. 

"Y..Yeah, I am. Thanks...for askin'."

_"You mind if I take this seat?"_

The seat at his table. He shouldnt have sat on a 2 person table. He should have seen something like this coming, no, how was he meant to predict this, this was absurd-

"Yeah..! I mean no i dont mind- not yes i do- sorry, i aint.. used to people."

_"Ehehe, no worries! I got what you meant!"_

They sat down and Birch had to make an effort to keep his dread secret, no doubt he looked perturbed. His face always somehow betrayed him. He needed to make a conversation. Thats all he had to do, endure this.

 _"Gosh- he's dined here for years and i don't think i've ever heard him say so many words at once!"_ The shop owner remarked as they brought over Aurum's order. Birch immediately flustered from sheer embarrassment, which outweighed even his panic. He groggily buried his face in his hands, feeling himself burning up. Aurum giggled, which just seemed to drive it in more.

"...'s cause i come here to get away from people, not for gossip n whatnot. Just a quiet space. all i want, bloody hell-"

_"Can confirm! He's always at work, aren't you!"_

Birch said nothing but glared at the owner. They were never this friendly , hell ,they were normally formal- what on earth was going on? And why couldn't they have left him alone. They were just worsening things.

"...fff... aight sweetie. Im just going to confirm, I've basically never talked to you, not even once. Don't "old pal" me, i just like the stuff you got."

 _"You have a job?"_ Aurum interrupted, changing the topic with a smile. Birch was almost thankful for the escape, the Shopkeeper immediately scurrying off.

"Oh- Yeah, i do. Electrical Engineer. It's a pretty fun thing to me. Working at ORPHEUS dev. but that place ain't- uh, the most welcomed. Infamous would be a better description"

" _Wasn't there... a riot there? ...and a murder- presumed one of a series, Siren i think... It was dropped after a while due to it having no leads."_

Birch felt his blood run cold. 

"S-siren?"

" _Yeah, it was! Siren, I was leading the investigation for that, ehehe... didn't go to plan in the fact there was just no evidence! Utterly stumped. I guess its... alright, considering it stopped. Sirens presumed dead, from your tone didnt you know who they were?"_

"Y... yeah, i do know, quite a lot at that; had quite the earful while they were at large, I was just... surprised at it being what you tied to my employers, heh.., but presumed dead? Since when? I didn't hear 'bout that part."

_"Mhm! The murders and disappearances just... ended! A couple years ago, when we were tracking them. Never started since. Not a trace, not a repeat attack, i've never seen nothing like it! The only conclusion we could find was they must have died."_

Birch fell silent in thought. 

Siren was presumed dead, their case closed. 

He let out a small chuckle, a feeling of ease washing over him. 

"Well that's a relief."

* * *


End file.
